


Ready or Not

by 1thousandminus7



Series: Ready or Not [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Otabek being a sweetheart, Proud dads Yuuri and Victor, Yuri being a sweet innocent child, idk its cute, supportive Yuuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-09-28 02:16:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10065911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1thousandminus7/pseuds/1thousandminus7
Summary: There are always going to be problems with their age. Yuri wants to prove he’s adult enough for Otabek, but maybe he needs to learn that innocence isn’t such a bad thing after all. Basically just pure fluff. Set a few months after episode 12.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm obsessed with this fandom right now. This fic is the product of me reading the OtaYuri discourse on tumblr and wanted to throw in my lot- Otabek is a gentleman, and will treat Yuri as he deserves. And therefore I support them <3

_I can't believe I'm doing this. I can't believe I'm actually doing this._

Yuri Plisetsky leaned against the rail surrounding the rink, watching his- rival? Friend?- Katsuki Yuuri choreograph his latest routine. He knew Yuuri came here regularly, and had come here deliberately looking for him, because he needed- oh god it hurt to even _think_ it- he needed _relationship advice_. And, well, he couldn't exactly go to Victor. Victor was... flighty, to say the least. He'd probably say some meaningless drivel about how he had to figure it out himself, and then lapse into some sickening story about himself and Yuuri. And by god, Yuri did not need to know about Yuuri and Victor's sex life. He knew that Yuuri came here on his own on purpose, the two of them having mutually decided their routines should be entirely secret until the day of the competition. That way they couldn't deliberately one-up each other in practice. Which meant that he was the only one here. Well, this was probably the best opportunity he was going to get, Yuri supposed, so he'd best get on with it.

 

It had started... a while ago, he supposed. After the GPN, he had begun to spend more and more time with his new friend. Otabek was good company, and he found himself looking forward to visiting whenever he had the opportunity. Then, one night he'd sat down and considered his actual opinions of the man, and come to the conclusion that maybe- just _maybe-_ his attitude towards the Kazakh was not entirely platonic. And whilst he was a very prickly person, he did have a habit of wearing his heart on his sleeve. It was only a matter of time before his stumbled sentences and frequent blushing around the older man came to his notice. One night, Otabek had suggested they see each other, to which Yuri had enthusiastically agreed. He had felt a now familiar bubble of joy in his chest as Otabek held out a helmet for him to take, and he had climbed onto the back of the motorbike he was so accustomed to. Arms around Otabek's waist, he had watched as streets, cars and buildings blew past them, until he stopped outside... an apartment block? Otabek had always taken him out somewhere, whether to eat, to a fair, to the cinema, it didn't matter. Never back here. Otabek had invited him into the flat he was staying in during his time in Russia, and had sat him down on his sofa. At this point, Yuri's stomach was tying itself in knots as he wondered what exactly was going to happen. Otabek had given him one of his soft, rare smiles as he'd gone to the little kitchen he had, and came back with two coffees. Yuri's was perfect- full of sugar, just how he liked it. Then he'd sat beside him, and said that dreaded sentence.

"I think we need to talk."

Yuri hoped the way his hands were shaking wasn't too obvious to the older man as he tried to play it casual.

"About what?"

Otabek took a sip from his mug, the picture of calm, and then said without missing a beat, "You have feelings for me, don't you?"

Yuri had almost choked on his coffee, having to put it aside to stop his coughing. He swore he heard a small exhale of air which might have been a laugh from his friend.

"What? No, I... I'm not- Maybe Katsudon's rubbing off on me." He made a lame excuse, but he knew it was already too late. He could feel the humiliating flush across his nose and cheeks, a surefire sign. He huffed and turned away, looking surly. This time, Otabek did laugh- only a short, quiet laugh, but still.

"You can only interact with so many fans before you start to notice these things." He told Yuri, his voice soft, in no way mocking. Yuri chanced a look at him, saw that he too had put his drink aside, and was looking down at his clasped hands.

"...Is that gonna make things weird?" Yuri asked, still mad at himself for being so obvious.

"I don't know." Otabek turned to face him, his expression serious. "You're sixteen. I'm nearly twenty."

"So?" Yuri blurted before he could help himself. "Victor's like five years older than Katsudon. They seem to get on well enough."

"They're both adults."

Yuri's eyes widened slightly, and he felt himself flush again, angry now. "So I'm a child to you?"

"That's what I need to know." Otabek looked him in the eye. "Are you serious about this? I won't lie and say I haven't... thought about you." Yuri's breath hitched. He searched Otabek's face, looking for anything that could tell him what he needed to know- _does he like me, too_? "But I won't entertain a puppy crush. I need to know that you're sure you want this."

Yuri blinked. He glanced over his friend- his dark, serious eyes, his hair, still windswept from their ride, the confidence with which he held himself. And listened to the flutter in his stomach.

"Yeah. I do."

"Have you been in a serious relationship before?"

"Uh, not really. Haven't really had time."

"Hm." Something in Otabek's expression shifted, and for a moment, Yuri was scared that was going to be a deal breaker. Then he smiled again, quietly amused. "The press is going to tear us apart, you know that, right?"

" _Tch._ " Yuri sniffed. "Fuck them."

Otabek laughed properly, something that happened rarely enough that it made Yuri smile every time he heard it.

"Yeah." Then he sobered up. There was a moment of silence, which Yuri didn't know how to break, and then Otabek moved. He moved closer to Yuri, so they were face to face, and Yuri had to swallow to fight the sudden dryness in his mouth. "...May I?" The dark haired man asked, and Yuri nodded, though he was suddenly painfully nervous. Somehow, being close to Otabek made him feel an awful lot like he did before a performance. The older man seemed to sense this, because he raised a hand to Yuri's cheek in a comforting gesture before he closed the distance.

Yuri didn't know what to do. Otabek's lips were warm, and slightly damp. His hand on Yuri's cheek felt nice, and the way he moved caused Yuri's face to heat up, and a strange, but not unpleasant sensation to settle in his stomach. Should he- was it okay to touch back? Should he try to take control, or just... let Otabek do what he wanted? He wanted to reach out, to touch Otabek's chest, to move closer, but he didn't know if that was okay, if that was the right thing to do. So instead, he just closed his eyes and returned the kiss to the best of his ability. He felt Otabek's fingers thread through his hair, and heard himself sigh at the feeling. Otabek broke the kiss for a moment, kissed him once more, then pulled back. His eyes searched Yuri's face.

"Hm. Not bad."

Yuri blushed, and hit his shoulder lightly. "Shut up." He glared at the man for a moment, then the smile he was holding in escaped, and he shifted closer to Otabek, resting his head on the older man's shoulder, like he'd wanted to do for a while. Otabek seemed to stiffen slightly, shocked by the move, then relaxed, his arm resting around Yuri's slim shoulders.

"Beka?"

"Mm?"

"Are we dating now?" Yuri turned his head, nestling into the space where the collar of his shirt gave way to skin. He smelled of leather, like the jacket he wore.

"If you want to," came the soft reply.

 _Then I guess we are,_ Yuri thought with a smile.

 

At first, not much was different. It was mostly on Yuri's part that things changed. He slowly tested boundaries, finding out what he could get away with. Leaning on Otabek's shoulder when they sat together, holding on just a fraction tighter when they were on the bike, just little touches. Otabek was, as with everything, reserved in his affections, though he did steal kisses from time to time, and was quick to rest a protective hand on his boyfriend's hip whenever they encountered one of "Yuri's Angels". As predicted, news spread quickly. When Victor found out, he seemed overjoyed, though it took him mere seconds to lapse into full parent mode and lecture a horrifically humiliated Yuri on being safe. Yuuri had apologised and tugged Victor away, stating that he was sure the young Russian knew how to take care of himself. Yuri had responded by yelling at both of them for being stupidly overprotective, and vowed to never share any details of their relationship with the older couple. Otabek only smiled and promised to do right by him, prompting Yuri to irritatedly remind him that they were _not,_ in fact, his parents. His grandpa was unsure at first, reminding Yuri gently of Otabek's age, and worrying that the older man would take advantage of him. Yuri was adamant to change his mind though, and after meeting the Kazakh, he seemed to relent with only mild threats should Otabek hurt his grandson.

 

And then the inevitable happened. Someone had managed to catch the pair of them on camera, and two days later a photo depicting them sat on a park bench, Otabek's arm around Yuri and Yuri pressing a kiss to his cheek, was all over social media. Responses were mixed. Many of Yuri's fans seemed heartbroken ("Wait, they actually thought they had a _chance_ with me?"), with some even going as far as to accuse the now-famous skater couple Victor and Yuuri of 'corrupting' him. And, as Otabek predicted, the media was vilifying him for being with the younger man, questioning his intentions. It didn't seem to get to him, though. He told Yuri after a particularly nasty _Otabek Altin: Hero or villain?_ article made the rounds that the only person he needed to prove himself to was Yuri himself, prompting Yuri to accuse him of being as disgustingly cheesy as Victor. He would never admit that the comment had made his heart skip a beat.

 

So what was his problem? Well, as their relationship progressed, they became more comfortable with each other. Though in public they were never anything but chaste, behind closed doors their interactions became more and more intimate. Gentle kisses turned into full-on making out, and more than once, Yuri had left his mark on the older man. And yet... every time he tried to push it further, Otabek would stop him. If he tried to slip his fingers under the Kazakh's shirt, he would feel a gentle touch on his wrist, if he tried to trail kisses down the older man's chest, he would pull him up to resume kissing his lips. Yuri wasn't brave enough to bring it up in conversation, but in the back of his mind, he was beginning to worry. What if Otabek didn't like him like that? What if he didn't find him attractive? Was he doing something wrong? So here he was, about to ask- he swallowed, feeling his pride slipping through his fingers- _Yuuri Katsuki_ for _sex advice._

"Oy! Katsudon!" He yelled. Yuuri glanced over from where he was skating a perfect arabesque, bringing his skate back to the ice so he could change direction towards Yuri.

"Oh, Yurio!" He gave him a smile and a wave, which Yuri returned with a glare. He glided to a stop against the rail where Yuri leaned. "What are you doing here? Not here to see my competition routine, are you?"

"No, idiot. I can win without cheating." He scratched at a mark on the railing, already feeling a blush start to show on his cheeks.

"Oh. Well, I'm leaving the rink in a half hour so if you can wait-"

"I'm not here to skate." He snapped. Then he huffed, not quite making eye contact. "I need advice."

"Advice?" Yuuri looked surprised, pushing dark hair out of his face. "Has something happened between you and Otabek?"

"Not- not really. Actually, that's... kind of the problem."

"Huh?" Yuuri frowned.

"Nothing's happening! I keep- I keep trying and he doesn't respond! He stops me before I can do anything!" Yuri gestured vaguely in a random direction, expressing his pent-up frustration. "It's like he's not interested in me!"

Yuuri held his confusion a moment longer, then realisation dawned on his face. "Oh. _Oh."_ He blushed, figuring out what Yuri wanted from him.

"I can't believe I'm asking this, but _how do I get him to put out_?"

"Yurio, aren't you... you know, a bit young?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, I'm sixteen! I'm legal!"

"It's not about the law, Yuri." Yuuri leaned against the rail beside him. "It's about if you're ready or not." He smiled softly. "You know, it actually took Victor and I a while to-"

" _Shut up!_ " Yuri clapped his hands over his ears. "I deliberately came to you instead of Victor so I could _avoid_ hearing about your- _that._ "

"Ah, sorry." Yuuri laughed, rubbing the back of his neck in a slightly embarrassed manner. "I'm just saying. You know what I was like when I first met him."

"Yeah, I do, _Katsudon."_

"So it's okay if you take your time. Have you tried talking to him about it?"

"Tch." Yuri picked at a spot of flaking paint. "No."

"Why not? Do you feel like you can't talk to him about things?"

"No! He's- I trust him. But I don't know. How would I bring it up? It feels... just... ugh, no."

"Hmm." Yuuri regarded him. "Do you think it might be because you're nervous?"

"What? No, I'm not nervous." He looked away, considering himself. Was he? Maybe a little. Otabek was older than him. More mature. Maybe that did scare him a bit. Not enough to put him off altogether, though, right?

"I think you should think it over. Make sure it is what you actually want."

Yuri glared at him. "You're useless."

"Ah, sorry Yurio. There are some things you've gotta figure out yourself."

"Whatever." He turned to leave.

"See you around!"

"Yeah. Have fun or whatever." With that he left Yuuri to it, shoving his hands in his pockets and thinking. He found himself fidgeting with his phone in his pocket, and it didn't take long before he took it out and brought up Otabek's number.

"Yura?"

"Hey, Beka. Can I come over tonight?"

"Of course. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. I just want to see you. Is that a crime?" He said, and then berated himself for being so defensive.

"...No." Otabek sounded mildly taken aback. "Should I cook?"

"Um. Yeah. That sounds nice. I'll... I'll come see you after practice, yeah?"

"Mm. See you."

"Love you." Yuri said before he could help himself. There was a pause at the other end of the line, then a soft, "Love you too." The dial tone sounded, and Yuri put his phone back in his pocket, trying to will away the furious blush on his face. _So now what? Am I gonna confront him about it? Tonight? Fuck._

Later in the day, he made his way to the rink where Otabek practiced, signing himself in and pulling on his skates. Making his way to the ice, he caught Otabek practicing jumps, and watched as he glided through a mohawk turn into a triple flip with perfect poise, the height of the jump impressive enough to pull a gasp from the gold medallist. He noticed Yuri as he rounded the ice again, and held up a hand in greeting. A small spray of ice kicked up from the outside edge of his skate as he slid to a halt.

"Yura."

"You could have made that a quad, you know." Yuri pointed out, stepping out onto the ice to join him.

"That's the goal." The older man watched as Yuri made his way to the centre of the rink, doing a few basic moves as he did so. "Have you mastered it yet?"

Yuri didn't reply, instead speeding into a three-turn and leaping from the ice. His lack of preparation meant his form wasn't perfect, and as he landed he stepped out, but he landed it, and he smirked at the impressed look on Otabek's face. "Getting there."

"You'll have it perfected by the competition, I'm sure." He caught up with Yuri, placing one hand on his waist and taking Yuri's with his other so they moved along together for a moment.

"Do you think we should do a pair skate?" Yuri asked, somewhat out of the blue as he turned to face Otabek, their fingers laced together.

"Maybe. I've never tried pair skating before."

"Neither. I was never strong enough to do the lifts."

They skated for a while, showing off moves and just generally enjoying themselves. Having very different styles, they both found they could learn from the other, though Otabek told Yuri he didn't think he'd ever be able to get his leg above his head the way the other did. Yuri responded by doing a perfect Biellman spiral, showing off his balance and flexibility.

Eventually, they grew tired and left the ice, returning to Otabek's apartment. They ate together, Yuri having discovered that the Kazakh was actually a half decent cook, and settled down for the evening. It wasn't until then, cuddled up to Otabek on the older man's sofa that he thought about his problem again. Should he say something...? No, he didn't want to make it awkward. So instead, he pressed a kiss to Otabek's jaw, looking for attention. The Kazakh looked down at him, then caught his lips in a proper kiss. He was soft at first, but Yuri chased him, looking for passion. He grasped at Otabek's shirt, and felt the familiar threading of fingers through his hair. Wanting more contact, he moved into Otabek's lap, deepening the kiss. His hand toyed with the collar of the older man's shirt, and he could feel the line of his collarbone beneath it. A shiver went through him, and he trailed kisses down Otabek's jaw and throat, hearing the catch in his breath when he bit down, taking the time and care to leave a mark. He trailed his fingers down Otabek's chest, down to his hip. He felt his partner's shiver when he brushed bare skin, but once again, when he tried to push up the hem of Otabek's shirt, to touch him properly, he felt long fingers around his wrist, stopping him. Instead of immediately pulling his hand back though, like he usually did, he left it there, tracing the line of Otabek's hip lightly with his thumb. He paused with his kisses as well, knowing that if he didn't say anything now, his chance would have passed.

"Hey, Beka..." He murmured. "Why do you always stop me?"

Otabek was quiet for a moment. "Because I don't want you to do something you'll regret."

That made Yuri sit up, and look him in the eye. "You think I regret any of this?"

"No." The Kazakh's hand left his wrist, going instead to rest on his thigh. "I don't. But I also think you don't want to go further."

"Why not?" Yuri couldn't help the irritated edge slipping into his tone. Otabek regarded him for a second or two, his dark eyes pensive. Then he tapped lightly on his leg.

"Up." Yuri blinked in surprise, but then Otabek repeated the action, and he obeyed, climbing off. Otabek stood, and took his hand, leading him to- to-

_Oh._

Was this really happening? Otabek led him to the bedroom, pushing the door shut behind him and returning to Yuri. He leaned in to kiss him again, gently guiding him backwards as he did so, until Yuri felt the backs of his knees hit the bed. He lost his balance, falling back onto it, and felt a flush on his cheeks as he looked up at his boyfriend, his heart beating a little faster than normal. Otabek climbed onto the bed above him, his body warm and heavy on top of Yuri's. They moved so Yuri's head rested on the pillows, and Otabek gave him a moment to get comfortable before kissing him again, taking his hand and guiding it back to where it had been, against his hip under his shirt. Yuri's breath hitched again, not knowing what to do now he had permission to touch. He let out a shaky breath as Otabek kissed his neck, tracing his fingers hesitantly up the line of his partner's spine. He heard the other make a soft noise of appreciation at the touch, and felt Otabek's own hand on his hip, his touch light against the V-shape of his hipbone. He shifted against the touch, suddenly insecure about how thin he was. Compared to Otabek, who he could tell had the perfectly toned musculature that most male skaters had to some degree, he felt so... delicate. Small. His heart pounded in his chest, and he had to put significant effort into breathing normally, so much so that when Otabek pushed his leg between Yuri's thighs, he audibly gasped, taken by surprise.

"Beka..." He tugged lightly on the back of Otabek's shirt, but his partner already seemed to have picked up on Yuri's train of thought, because almost as soon as he heard Yuri's gasp, he pulled back, looking down at Yuri with a softly fond expression. Yuri found himself at a loss for words as he looked up. All he could do was look, as he tried to calm his shaking nerves. Otabek brushed his hair from his face lightly.

"Are you okay?"

Yuri felt the blush across the bridge of his nose, and he scowled and looked away. "Alright. You've made your point."

"What point? I was just making out with my boyfriend." He lay beside Yuri on the bed, somehow managing to look nonchalant.

"Innocence doesn't suit you."

"It suits you." Otabek kissed his cheek lightly.

"Shut up. I'm not innocent."

"Your _Agape_ says otherwise."

"And what if Victor had assigned me _Eros?_ What would you think of me then?"

"Hmm." Otabek looked up, pensive. "Probably impure things."

"What, you don't do that already?" Yuri smirked at him. "I think of you."

"That doesn't surprise me." Otabek teased him. "I hope I measure up."

That made Yuri snort with laughter. "Beka, was that a pun?"

"A completely sincere pun." He smiled, and Yuri cuddled up to him, sighing softly.

"I'll find out one day."

"Take your time, Yuratchka. I love you either way."

"Love you too, Beka."


	2. Late Nights and Lazy Mornings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Communication is really what makes a relationship. When you finally get those little things off your chest, suddenly everything feels so much more natural.  
> AKA I got several requests for more of this so here have 3,500 words (give or take) of these two on a cutesy date. Enjoy ^_^

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, so I've had a few people ask me to continue this now, so I propose a compromise. I have absolutely no plot ideas for this beyond when will Yuri finally get laid, so I'm thinking that if you guys want more OtaYuri from me, then by all means send in prompts or ideas that I can write into little one shots which might be separate stories, or might be added as additional chapters to this one. Either way, if there's something you want to read, please let me know!   
> Oh, and if I was to write Yuri and Beka's first time, would you be interested? I'd probably publish it separately to this but if there's interest I will absolutely do it.

Somehow, it felt like a barrier had been lifted. It wasn’t, Yuri thought, like they weren’t getting along. Far from it. Yuri felt closer to Otabek than he had to anyone else in his life before, except maybe his grandfather. And yet, he felt like some of the expectation had been faded. He knew it was probably all in his head, but he felt more relaxed around Otabek now. It pained him to admit it, but maybe Katsuki had been right. Maybe he had been nervous. At present, he was sat on the floor between Otabek’s legs, leaning back on his chest as he played a video game. Otabek’s arms were around his waist, and it felt nice. Every now and then Otabek would press a kiss to his hair or his cheek, playfully trying to distract him as he fought his way through the level. After his tenth death in a row, he swore and pushed the controller aside.

“That’s your fault you know.” He grumbled as he felt warm breath on his neck. Otabek’s quiet huff of a laugh made him shiver just a little.

“You tell yourself that.”

“Beka.” Yuri berated him, elbowing him lightly. “You know it’s true.” The other laughed again, softly. Yuri shifted, leaning back on Otabek’s shoulder and closing his eyes. It was nice, he thought. To have these moments of quiet intimacy without having to worry about being _more_. He still thought about Otabek, of course he did, when he was alone in his room at night, and he knew that in the future he wanted to overcome that nervousness. But he assumed that one day it would just come naturally, he wouldn’t have to deliberately psych himself up. Until that day came, he just wanted to do what felt natural, and right now that was play video games in their pyjamas. This wasn’t the first time he’d stayed the night. He was actually quite used to it at this point. Except… up until today he’d slept on the sofa. Otabek’s apartment wasn't huge, and whilst it wasn’t messy, it was cluttered, bookshelves piled high with dog-eared novels and records. A large sound system occupied one corner, a piano and battered seat another. It smelled of coffee and Otabek’s preferred deodorant. His sofa was just about big enough for Yuri to lie on lengthways, as short as he was, and it had become somewhat of a second home over the last few months. He was still surprised at how relaxed his grandfather was with Yuri spending so much time there, but he didn’t dispute it. It meant the old man approved of Otabek, and that was all he could ask for.

Tonight, though, Otabek had declined to get out the wonderfully soft throw Yuri normally slept under, inviting him to join him in his bed instead.

“If you’re okay with that, of course.” He’d insisted, making it perfectly clear that sleep was all that was intended. Yuri got the feeling he’d been waiting for the Russian to come to terms with his feelings regarding their relationship to ask. So when Yuri yawned, snuggling into Otabek’s embrace, he felt a warm touch on his arm.

“Time for bed?” Otabek shifted slightly, probably looking up at his clock. He whistled softly. “It is gone 2am.”

That made Yuri open his eyes and look up. So it was. He hadn’t even noticed it getting that late. He made a disgruntled noise and settled further into Otabek’s arms, not wanting to get up.

“Come on, Yura. If we fall asleep here we’ll regret it in the morning.” He pushed against Yuri gently, trying to dislodge him from his position in his lap. Yuri huffed, but gave in, getting up and stretching with a yawn. Otabek poked him in the stomach, where his shirt rode up, prompting him to bat the older man’s hand away with an indignant yell. Otabek chuckled, and went went to his room, calling behind “I call first dibs on the bathroom.” Yuri heard the bathroom door shut and lock, and he rolled his eyes, pulling his shirt back down to cover his stomach. Unsure of what to do, but fighting another yawn, he made his way to Otabek’s bedroom. The Kazakh had, fortunately, a double bed they could share. It wasn’t queen-size or anything ridiculous like that, but it was big enough that they wouldn’t be fighting for space. It looked like Otabek had made an effort, as the sheets were made and the pillows semi-neatly arranged, but Yuri could see the creases in the fabric that told him he didn’t normally bother. That made him smile a little, and he climbed onto the bed and lay down, burying his face in the pillow. It was soft, and it smelled nice. Like fabric softener and hair products and Otabek. He took a deep breath, and pulled the sheets over him. They were cool to the touch, but Yuri knew that wouldn’t last long. His eyes felt heavy, his mind fuzzy from tiredness, so he gave in, closing his eyes and pulling the sheets up around his shoulders. He tried to keep an ear out for Otabek, but his mind wandered, focusing instead on the warmth of the covers and the smell that now surrounded him.

He was jerked out of the half-sleep he’d fallen into by the click of the lock. He couldn’t quite persuade himself to open his eyes though, so he jumped a little when the mattress sank beside him. He felt a cool hand on his cheek, gently nudging him awake.

“Yura.” Otabek murmured. “Your turn.”

“Mmh.” Yuri pulled the covers tighter around him, finally giving in and looking up at his boyfriend through narrowed eyes.

“I won’t give you any more kisses if you don’t brush your teeth.” He pulled the covers off Yuri, causing him to hiss and shrink back like a cat.

“You’re mean.”

“Go on.” He nodded his head towards the bathroom. “The duvet will still be here when you come back.”

Yuri swore at him once more, then did as told, locking the door behind him.

 

He couldn’t help it. After washing his hands and doing his teeth, he stopped and looked at himself in the mirror. His hair was mussed, sticking out in places where it shouldn’t. He reached up and pulled his fingers through it, trying to get it back into place. Then he stopped, instead stretching his arm over his head, looking at the way the harsh light cast shadows over the muscle there. He looked so thin. When he lowered his arm so the muscle didn’t stand out, it was barely there at all. Not like Otabek. Yuri had seen him in vest tops and t-shirts, the way the lines of his biceps were clear even when he wasn’t trying. When Yuri pulled his pyjama top tight around his middle, he was so thin, the curvature of his ribs obvious above the flat plane of his stomach. In his head he saw Otabek, the muscle needed to reach the height of jumps that he achieved so easily. He remembered how he had felt that day, how vulnerable he’d felt under Otabek’s hands. Would he ever look like that? Have the physique that the other skaters had? He didn’t know. Sighing, he straightened out his shirt again, letting it hang loose about his slender frame, and tried to ignore the way his shorts hung sat too loosely on his hips, the ridge of his hip bone clear against the waistband.

 

When he returned to the bed, he found Otabek sprawled out on his back, his eyes closed and the sheets resting over his waist. It was all he could do to look, for a moment. The Kazakh’s shirt had ridden up, showing a strip of toned muscle beneath, his normally perfectly styled hair messy. Yuri could see the rise and fall of his chest, calm and steady.

“Yura…” Yuri nearly jumped out of his skin as he heard Otabek say his name in a low, teasing voice. The Kazakh opened his eyes, just enough to look up at Yuri. Yuri felt himself flushing, and he quickly moved to the other side of the bed, expression stormy as he tried to not be embarrassed. “Were you watching me?” Otabek asked as Yuri climbed into the bed beside him, pulling the covers up as he lay with his back to his boyfriend.

“No.”

“Liar.” Yuri felt an arm around his waist, and a kiss against his neck. He rolled onto his side, glaring a little.

“Maybe a bit. I can’t help it. You’re pretty.”

“Thanks.” He leaned in, kissing Yuri gently. Yuri kissed back, pressing his body against Otabek’s. He was warm, and felt nice against Yuri in his sleepy state. After a moment, they broke apart, and Yuri pressed his face into the crook of his boyfriend’s neck, comforted by his smell. Gently, Otabek rolled onto his back, pulling Yuri with him so he lay with his head resting against the other’s shoulder. Yuri felt warm covers pulled about him, and he tangled his legs with Otabek’s, wondering why he never did this before. As tired as he was, it didn’t take long for him to drift, his breathing lapsing into something more steady and deep. The last thing he remembered was the soft tracing on fingertips over the line of his shoulder.

 

The morning came too quickly. He was vaguely aware that his leg and lower back were cold, so he rolled over, pulling the covers back to cover the exposed skin. That was when he heard the soft sound of interrupted breathing, almost a snore but not quite. _Beka_. Yuri opened his eyes, and saw the sleeping face of his boyfriend in front of him. Otabek’s face was pressed against his forearm as he slept, a slightly undignified look that made Yuri smile. He wanted to reach out, to touch, but he also didn’t want to wake his partner, so he closed his eyes again, slipping back into a half-rest. In that state, he could hear when the rhythm of Otabek’s breathing changed, and felt the shift in the mattress as he rolled onto his back. He couldn’t help the smile on his face when, a moment later, he felt fingers brush his hair away from his face and neck, running through it in a way that felt really nice.

“You’re awake.” He heard Otabek say as he deliberately moved to encourage him to do it again. His voice was slightly rough from sleep, and he cleared his throat. Yuri made a soft noise of assent, opening his eyes.

“Morning.”

“Morning.” Then Otabek leaned in, and Yuri was only too happy to respond to the slow, lazy kiss. There was a brief space, a moment in which all that existed was the soft rhythm of their breaths, warm against each other’s lips, then Otabek, slightly hesitantly, placed his hand against Yuri’s hip, brushing against the bare skin there as he kissed him again, careful and chaste. Yuri took the initiative, moving them so he leaned over the older man, his knee resting in the space between Otabek’s legs. He held his hair back as he deepened the kiss, and it wasn’t long before he felt Otabek’s hand replace his own, threading through his hair gently, easing out the tangles. Yuri’s hand found the back of Otabek’s shirt, and pulled restlessly at the fabric, drawing lines up and down his spine as it was bared. Otabek made a soft noise, breaking the kiss with a warning, “Yura…”

Yuri looked at him, confused for a moment, but when he saw the soft flush across the older man’s nose and cheeks, and the look in his eyes, he blushed. “Sorry.”

Otabek chuckled, pulling his boyfriend into a bear hug. “You are too much sometimes, you know that?” Yuri just pressed his face into Otabek’s shoulder, and smiled softly to himself.

 

The morning passed slowly and lazily, mostly spent in bed with long conversations and kisses. It was the pursuit of food that finally drove them from the protective warmth of the sheets, as Otabek had mentioned something about a pastry shop around the corner that had resulted in Yuri being able to think about nothing but warm pain-au-chocolat for the next half an hour. They finally managed to get up and dressed, after some resistance and several distractions.

“I need a shave.” Otabek commented, looking over his reflection in the mirror.

“Ugh, Beka, I’m hungry, let’s _gooo_.” Yuri draped himself over Otabek’s arm unceremoniously. Otabek looked down at him, one eyebrow raised.

“Do you want me to walk around looking like this?”

“Honestly? I don’t care.”

“No?” Otabek turned to face him, hands on his hips as he pulled him closer. He leaned in for a kiss, deliberately dragging his stubbly cheek over Yuri’s as he peppered kisses over his lips, cheeks and jaw. Yuri laughed and attempted to push him away as those kisses spread to the long line of his throat, tickling him.

“Beka!”

“What?” Otabek nipped lightly at his throat, making him gasp, then pulled back, an amused smile on his face.

“You can shave when we get back.” Yuri dragged a fingertip down his jawline, feeling the little catches under his nail from the stubble. “Actually, I kinda like it.”

“I’ll bear that in mind.” Otabek told him, and then stepped back. “Alright. Get your shoes on.”

They both found their shoes and jackets- Yuri unashamedly stealing one of Otabek’s rather than wear his own- and they left. It wasn’t exactly cold out, but it wasn’t warm either, so Yuri stuck his hands in his pockets as they walked down the street. The pastry shop wasn’t far away, and at this time of day it wasn’t hugely busy. The girl over the counter took their orders with a smile and- in Yuri’s opinion- a little too long of a lingering glance at the Kazakh. In response, he looped his arm through Otabek’s as they waited for their coffees, pressing a light kiss to his cheek and registering with a smirk the shocked and slightly disappointed look she gave them.

“One vanilla latte, one regular latte with two shots of espresso, and two pain-au-chocolat.”

“Thanks.” They took their drinks, along with the pastries and found a quiet table to sit at. Yuri practically moaned as he bit into his, the warm, gooey chocolate in the middle absolute heaven.

“You weren’t lying when you said this place was good.” He took a sip of his coffee, enjoying the vanilla aftertaste. “Did you see the look the barista was giving you?”

“I noticed your reaction.” He responded, peeling a layer of pastry from his breakfast and eating it. “It’s cute.”

“Shut up.” Yuri felt himself blush a little.

“Do you get jealous, then?”

“I’ve got a gorgeous hunk of a boyfriend, of course I’m not gonna let anyone take him away from me.”

Otabek rolled his eyes. “You know I’m not interested in anyone else.”

That made something in Yuri’s chest blossom with warmth, and he smiled into the froth on the top of his latte.

“Hey, Beka?” He found himself asking, a thought popping unprompted into his head.

“Hm?”

“Do you think people who see us together think I’m too young for you?”

Otabek considered him. “Would it bother you if they did?”

“Well…” Yuri kicked his leg back and forth restlessly. “Kind of.”

“Why?”

“Because what if they’re right?”

“Is this about the sex thing?” The Kazakh asked him, one eyebrow raised. Yuri spluttered, blushing.

“No! No… Well, maybe a little… I just… You probably want stuff I can’t give you.” The Russian glared at nothing in particular, picking at the edge of the paper napkin on his plate.

“Yura.” Otabek’s voice was soft, and calm. “I don’t want any of them. I want you.”

Sometimes Yuri hated how he could do that. Get straight to the root of the problem, ignoring all the fluff Yuri put around it to avoid the point.

“But they can… you know. And I can’t. Yet.”

“Good things come to those who wait. Or rather, good things come _for_ those who wait.” Otabek took another mouthful of coffee as Yuri almost choked on his.

“ _Beka!_ How can you keep a straight face saying things like that!”

The Kazakh gave him a subtly wry smile, and went back to his drink. Yuri, now blushing furiously, finished his breakfast and the last of his coffee.

“What’s the plan for today?”

“There isn’t one. Do you want to go for a ride? It’s a Sunday, so the market will be open.”

“Okay.” Yuri liked the market. There was a lot of cool craft type stuff there, and clothes he couldn’t find anywhere else. Plus, he got to ride on Beka’s motorbike, so there was that.

 

They had to return to Otabek’s apartment to retrieve the motorcycle and riding gear. Yuri had his own helmet at this stage, which he recovered as Otabek strapped on his gloves and pads, along with his wallet. All ready to go, Otabek locked up the apartment and they got on the motorbike. With the helmet on, Yuri couldn’t rest his face on Otabek’s shoulder the way he wanted to, but he put his arms around Otabek’s waist tightly, holding onto the older man as the low hum of the engine started up. The way the street blew past them never failed to impress Yuri, and the exhilaration of feeling the wind whip past them was an endlessly exciting experience. Yuri hoped that one day he’d learn to ride a motorbike too, and have one of his own. Maybe even take Otabek for rides instead of the other way around.

The market was closer to the city centre than where they lived, and they weaved through traffic and netlike streets to get there. They found a place to park, and made their way to the square. It was busy, people flitting from stall to stall to pick up fresh produce and browse wares. Yuri was immediately drawn to a stall selling crystal jewellery and little hand-painted statuettes of dragons and other mystical creatures, and Otabek followed him, admiring the craftsmanship of the statuettes.

“I like this one.” Yuri picked up a metal pendant, a steel-grey, slender dragon wound elegantly around a purple crystal. He held it up to his neck. “I really like this one.” Turning it over, he checked the price tag, making a disappointed noise. “Shit.” He huffed, holding it up in front of a small mirror one more time before putting it back reluctantly. Otabek, making a bit of an impulse decision, waited for him to get bored and move on, then went to the vendor himself. He had just about enough cash to pay for it; he’d have to get some more the next time he was at a cashpoint. Yuri was flicking through a rack of hoodies a couple stalls down when Otabek approached, the gift tucked safely inside a jacket pocket.

“Keep up.”

“Sorry. I got sidetracked.”

“Do you think I have too many hoodies?” Yuri pulled one out of the rack, a black one with slits across the chest revealing red fabric underneath. Otabek tilted his head slightly to one side, examining it.

“Nah.”

The Russian held it up a moment longer, then put it back. “I need to stop spending money on clothes.” Otabek chuckled softly.

“Come on then. Before you change your mind.”

 

They ended up milling around for a while, doing a complete circuit of the market. They bought some peaches, and Yuri laughed when Otabek had to wipe away the juice that ran down his chin. The fruit was sweet, and couldn’t have been much fresher, coming from a local farm. As it was, they didn’t stop for lunch until well into the afternoon, and after that they returned to Otabek’s apartment.

“I should probably go home soon.” Yuri said reluctantly, removing his helmet and placing it on the kitchen counter. “I told Grandpa I’d be back to help with dinner.”

“Hm.” The Kazakh- still in his riding gear but sans helmet- approached him from behind, pulling his hair back to press a gentle kiss to the spot behind Yuri’s ear. Yuri couldn’t stop a giggle as Otabek’s lips tickled the side of his neck.

“Hey. Stop it or I won’t be able to leave.”

“Maybe that’s the goal.” The older man murmured in a low voice, and nipped playfully, drawing a soft gasp from Yuri.

“You’re mean.”

“Maybe.” He repeated, and then stood back. “Close your eyes.”

“Why?” Yuri turned to face him, leaning back against the countertop.

“Just do it.” Otabek motioned for him to turn around again, and he obeyed. The Kazakh drew the little paper bag out of his jacket pocket, and from that withdrew the necklace he’d bought earlier. He put it carefully around Yuri’s neck, and did up the clasp.

“You didn’t.” Yuri told him, and Otabek could see the smile on his face even though his eyes were still shut.

“Alright. All done.”

The blonde opened his eyes, and held up the little dragon, laughing. “I can’t believe you. You’re such a sap.”

“Do you like it?” Otabek asked, his voice soft and fond.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Of course I do. I’m gonna wear it all the time.” He basically leapt into Otabek’s arms, wrapping him in a tight hug. “Love you, Beka.”

“Love you too, Yura.” They kissed, and Yuri laughed again, that little bubble in his chest back and making him feel light and warm inside.

 

When Yuri left, he kissed Otabek goodbye with long, lazy kisses that betrayed how much he didn’t want to go, and waved over his shoulder as Otabek leaned in his doorway to watch him go. Finally out of sight, Yuri’s hand went to the little dragon around his neck, and he held it gently in his palm as he walked, smiling and hoping he and Otabek would be a thing for a very, very long time.  

 


End file.
